It was the first day of eighth grade.  I was sitting in home room.  The next thing I knew, I was walking down the hall way.  I was being sent to the principals office with this kinda cute guy.

“Good grief.”  I though to myself.  I have not even made it to my first class and I am already trudging down the hall to visit the office.

No.  We were not in trouble even though it would make my story so much better. The office had neglected to put our milk passes into the packet that went to our homeroom.  We had been sent, together, to retrieve them.

And that is how MFH (My Favorite Husband) and I met.

We talked on our way to the office and were kinda, instantly friends.  That friendship has never died away.

We dated each other off and on for nine years.  We would think the grass was greener with someone else but we always came back to each other.  Funny how that has a way of happening.

In college, he went to one part of the country and I went to another.  We would write and see each other during breaks…you know, keep in touch.  Then, during our last year of college things began to get serious and I got scared.  I wrote a “Dear John” letter and ran for my life.  That was an awful thing to do.  I still, to this day feel terrible about it.  Call me a coward because that is exactly what I was.

Jump ahead a few more months.  A teaching job in Virginia and a move back home.  I caught sight of MFH at church on the evening after Christmas.  I left where I was sitting and walked over to him during a song.  I said, “We need to talk.”

After the service, we went to Mc Donald’s and I ate crow.  I apologized.  He accepted my apology.

We went out the next evening.  We went out the evening after that and the evening after that.  We went out for four evenings.  On the fourth evening, he asked me to marry him.  I said, “Yes!”

Five months later we were married.  Next month, we will have been married 29 years.

You can say that we dated nine years or four days~whatever you prefer, that still does not change the 29 years of a very happy marriage.

Whoever the person was, forever ago, who messed up those milk passes when I was in eighth grade, Thank You!!!